


The Heist

by sparxwrites



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Fake AH Crew, GTA V AU, Heist, Innuendo, Mad King Ryan, Murder, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Have you ever worked with Geoff before?” asked the man in the corner of the penthouse, his voice low and rough. Michael tried not to feel intimidated by the fact he’d pulled out a sniper rifle from what looked like a guitar case, had dismantled it and stripped it down and was now cleaning each piece lovingly with a well-used rag.</i>
</p><p>Five of the most dangerous men in the state meet for the first time in a penthouse apartment at the request of mob boss Geoff Ramsey. Stories are exchanged, alcohol is drunk, murder is committed, and a heist is born. All in a day's work, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heist

“Have you ever worked with Geoff before?” asked the man in the corner of the penthouse, his voice low and rough. Michael tried not to feel intimidated by the fact he’d pulled out a sniper rifle from what looked like a guitar case, had dismantled it and stripped it down and was now cleaning each piece lovingly with a well-used rag.

Hell, the guy that had introduced himself as Ray (and was currently smoking something that Michael hoped was just tobacco) had what looked like a fucking _rocket launcher_ propped up against the arm of his chair, painted a lurid shade of pink and looking no less deadly because of it.

His own switchblade in his pocket and the handgun concealed inside his jacket suddenly felt rather inadequate and outclassed.

At least the guy wasn’t talking to Michael. His gaze was on the douchebag sprawled across the sofa like he owned the place, mirrored sunglasses perched on the bridge of his oversized nose despite the fact they were indoors. Michael had taken an immediate disliking to him the moment he’d walked through the door and nearly tripped over his own feet, and the dislike only deepened when he opened his mouth and some pretentious British accent came out.

“Couple of times.” He smiled, taking a sip of the whiskey he’d helped himself too from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. “Helped him out with some stuff for Mr. Hullum and Mr. Burns a while back.”

The guy in the corner whistled quietly. “So _you’re_ Vav,” he said thoughtfully, eyes raking over Gavin as if evaluating how well the man in front of him measured up to what he’d heard. From the looks of things, an idiot in chrome sunglasses fell a little short of expectations. Unsurprisingly so – for someone who had, by his own claims, done some jobs for the most infamously crooked (and lethal) businessmen in the entire state, Gavin looked remarkably amateur.

“Just Gavin, thanks,” said Gavin, mouth turning down a little in something that looked almost like a pout at the expression on Ryan’s face. As if he gave a shit what a room full of hired killers thought about him when, if what he was saying was true, he could easily hold his own.  
“The fuck did he need to import some British twink for that?” asked Michael, with a snort. He’d been privy to a few details about that job – it’d been complex, but it could have been handled by Geoff’s own guys if he’d given them half a chance. No need to go dragging an outsider into things.

“Same reason he picked you up?” guessed Gavin, laughing at the look of indignation on Michael’s face at the casual response. “He saw talent, I suppose.”

Ray frowned. “What do you actually _do_ , though?” he asked. “I mean, you-” He pointed at Michael. “Bodyguard, right? And you’re a sniper,” a wave of his hand in the direction of the guy dismantling the rifle, and he missed the smile that flickered across the man’s face, as if he were delighted about being underestimated so badly, “and I’m the guy they call when things look like they’re gonna go to shit, but, you?”

Gavin shrugged, a motion that somehow came off as both languid and vaguely uncoordinated. “I’m the charmer, darling,” he said, accent turning to affected and over-exaggerated Queen’s English before letting it slip back to normal. “You want something? I can get it for you. You want information? I can get that too. I’m the guy with the camera no one sees.”

“You’re a pretentious dickbag,” muttered Michael under his breath, and startled when the man in the corner chuckled. He hadn’t thought anyone would be able to hear him. “What about you, then, huh?” he asked, louder. “No way in hell you’re just a fucking sniper. Geoff’s got like ten guys he could use if he just needed a sniper. Who the fuck are you?”

The man laughed again, shaking his head. “Ryan,” he said, after a moment. “Ryan Haywood. Nice to see you’re not as stupid as I thought you were – I’d hate it if Geoff was losing his touch.”  
Michael gritted his teeth, opened his mouth to say something, and was cut off by Ray. “The Mad King?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“You’ve heard of me!” Ryan looked delighted, a grin curling at the edges of his mouth. “Lovely. As for what I do…” He shrugged, leaning back against the wall and beginning to fit his rifle back together, parts snapping into place with sharp clicks that made Michael twitch, on edge enough as it was. “I suppose you could call me the loophole guy.”

“Technology,” said Gavin, sounded excited he’d worked it out. “If there’s an easier way for you to do something, then you’ll find it.”  
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “With brains like that, I can’t think _why_ you had to sleep with Ramsey to get on his team,” he said, dryly.

Ray sat up a little straighter, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and abandoning it in favour of leaning forward, intrigued. “You slept with the Boss? Seriously?”  
“So the rumour goes,” confirmed Ryan. “Although I’d be interested to hear it confirmed by a witness.” They both turned to look at Gavin, and even Michael (against his better judgement) couldn’t help looking curious.

Gavin laughed at them, head tipped back and the long line of his throat exposed in what Michael was almost sure was a deliberate gesture, and tapped the side of his nose. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he sing-songed. “And even if I did… well, it would’ve been a business transaction, wouldn’t it? Be a bit indiscrete of me to go around blabbing about it.”

“Business transaction,” mused Ryan softly, and then snorted, shaking his head. Michael made a vaguely disgusted noise at the self-satisfied expression on Gavin’s face, the amusement in the curl of his lips like he was getting off on playing around with them.

Sighing, Ray leaned back against the chair he was sat in, hand darting out to brush against his rocket launcher before pulling his phone from his pocket. His fingers felt twitchy, needed something to do – and besides, the front camera on his phone gave him the ability to peer a little over his shoulder at Ryan without being too indiscrete about it.

The man had a reputation, and it wasn’t just one of being the best in his field. Ray preferred caution to death.

The abrupt scraping of chair against floor made everyone turn towards the noise. Ryan was suddenly on his feet, stretching and yawning widely, before fixing Michael with a distinctly unimpressed look. “What time is your boss supposed to be arriving, again?” he asked, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice as if it were somehow the bodyguard’s fault Geoff wasn’t here. He’d been in the penthouse apartment for close to forty minutes now and, as thrilling as it had been making light conversation, he was bored.

“About half an hour.” Michael paused, narrowing his eyes. “You complaining?”  
Ryan didn’t answer the question. “Half an hour…” he murmured, looking thoughtful, before patting his jacket – checking for a handgun, Michael could tell, from the position of the touch and the way his hand curved around its outline slightly. “That should be fine.” He kicked the chair back to where it had been before he stood up, and headed for the door.

Michael was in front of him before he could leave, blocking the door and trying not to feel intimidated by the way Ryan looked at him, one eyebrow raised, like he was a particularly interesting toy. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” said Ryan smoothly, sounding unconcerned. “Why? Are you going to stop me?”

For a second, Michael thought about it. He had a gun, and a knife – but Ryan also had a gun, probably at least one knife, and god only knew what else. It wasn’t worth it. After all, his job was to protect the boss, and Geoff would be beyond pissed with him if he got himself hurt in some dumb posturing competition.

So he stood aside, gesturing to the door with a mocking bow. “Of course not,” he sneered. “Fucking leave. I don’t care. Just don’t be late or the boss’ll have your fucking balls.”

Ryan looked at him for a moment, as if measuring him up, and then simply shouldered past him without a word. A moment later, the doors slammed behind him, leaving the occupants of the room staring after him in either surprise or (in Ray’s case) boredom.

“Charming sort of bloke, isn’t he?” said Gavin, breaking the silence. “Really top.” The sarcasm was so thick it seemed to drip from his mouth.  
“He’s the Mad King,” said Ray with a shrug. “What did you expect?”

Gavin didn’t seem to have an answer for that one, just went to take another sip of whiskey and looked disappointed when the tumbler was empty. He wasn’t much inclined to get up and get more, though (too much like effort), so he simply set it down on a side table and sprawled even more expansively across the couch, getting himself comfortable. Ray turned back to his phone, eyes focused on the small screen, and an uncomfortable silence reigned again.

As luck would have it, Geoff did not turn up half an hour later. He turned up a little over ten minutes later, pushing through the doors and heading straight to the bar. “Traffic was slow as dicks,” he said to the room in general, by way of explanation. “Where the fuck is everyone?”

“Jack’s not arrived yet, boss,” said Michael, instantly moving to take his place – at Geoff’s side, a little behind him. “Ryan arrived, but he fucking left.”  
“And you didn’t stop him?” asked Geoff, sounding vaguely annoyed as he poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, downing half of it in one swallow. “C’mon, Michael.”

Michael scowled, not appreciating being made to seem incompetent. “He was pretty damn determined to leave,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and his temper. “Didn’t think it was worth starting a fight. He’s a big boy, I’m sure he doesn’t need a fucking babysitter telling him to stay put.” Truth be told, as much as he’d taken an initial liking to Ryan, something about the guy creeped him out a little. He was half-hoping the sniper wouldn’t return.

Geoff simply grunted, and leant against the bar, apparently brushing it from his mind. “Morning, lads. Thanks for coming. Nice to see you again, Gavin.” Behind him, Michael seethed quietly at the silent dismissal but stayed where he was; watching, waiting, guarding.

Fifteen minutes of idle conversation – and plenty of Geoff cursing Ryan and Jack’s lateness, and refusing to tell them why he’d called them here despite Gavin’s whining and Ray’s polite but determined enquiries – Ryan turned up,

The wailing of police sirens accompanied him as he pushed open the doors to the apartment and strolled casually in, a look in his eyes that could only be described as contented. He didn’t get more than three feet before Geoff – who’d gone grey at the sound of the sirens and then crimson with anger – descended on him.

“You brought the fucking _cops_ down on us?!” yelled Geoff, grabbing Ryan by the lapels of his jacket and slamming him up against the wall. “Are you fucking insane?” It wasn’t often Michael saw his employer properly riled up, but whenever he did it made him want to be at least a kilometre further away than he was.

This time was no exception.

Ryan shrugged, grinned slow and easy, apparently not intimidated. “Relax,” he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. There was blood on his palms and knuckles, a small splash of it high on his cheekbone and flaking as it dried. He was wearing a different jacket to the one before, Michael noticed – he wondered where this one had come from, what had happened to the other to make Ryan abandon it. “They didn’t see me come in here. You’re safe, don’t worry.”

Geoff let go of him with an expression that was equal parts amusement and disgust as another round of sirens wailed past. “Shit on my dick, that’s a lot of police. How many  people did you even kill?”

“Couple of cops,” said Ryan casually, and Michael had to fight to keep his mouth from dropping open. Even Ray’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the British douche practically inhaled his drink. “Probably a couple of the pedestrians when I drove up on the sidewalk. I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Michael took a deep breath in, let it out again, curled his hands into fists at his sides. Apparently, this guy killed police for _fun_ , because he was _bored_.

He felt so painfully out of his depth, it was laughable. How the hell was he supposed to defend the boss against psychopaths?

For a moment, it looked like Geoff was about to try and punch the smirk right off Ryan’s face – and almost like Ryan wanted him to try. The moment was broken by a knock at the door, but Geoff paused for a second before going to answer it. “You pull something like that on my watch again, you’ll find your dead body being tossed in the nearest dumpster,” he promised. “Capisce?”

“Crystal clear,” drawled Ryan, slinking back over to where he’d left his rifle and running a hand down it like it was some kind of comfort blanket, before dropping down to perch on a side table that only looked dubiously capable of holding his weight and pulling out a pistol that he settled to cleaning.

Ray gave him a look, just for a second, a momentary expression of disapproval flitting across his face before he turned his attention back to Geoff.

The moment Geoff pulled the door open, his scowl faded. “Jack!” he said, grinning and clapping the newcomer on the shoulder. “Nice of you to turn up.”

Jack just pulled Geoff into a tight hug, huffing out a noise of exasperation that got caught in his beard. “You wanted me here earlier, you shoulda called yourself, not gotten a lackey to leave a message,” he rumbled, pushing past Geoff into the room and surveying the three sullen faces (Gavin was still beaming like an idiot) and whistling lowly. “Nice line up you got going here.”

“They’re _supposed_ to be the best,” said Geoff, with a pointed glance in Ryan’s direction that was completely ignored. “They’ve some kinks that need working out, but I don’t think I’ve done too bad.”  
“You wanted a loophole guy,” Ryan reminded him, quietly, and it was the first time he’d sounded serious since he’d first opened his mouth. “You got a loophole guy.”

Geoff sighed, longsuffering and exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was true, he’d known Ryan’s reputation before hiring him, and he was the best. The fact he was unstable even by mob standards was just an unfortunate add-on they’d have to deal with.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, eventually – a blatant lie. “I was talking about Gavin.”

Gavin, who hadn’t moved from where he’d lazily claimed an entire sofa with his body and looked like he might actually have fallen asleep, bolted upright with an indignant squawk. “Aw, Geoff-“ he whined, cutting himself off at the look Geoff gave him. “I mean, boss.”

The fact Gavin was on a first name basis with Geoff made Michael raise an eyebrow, although he held his tongue. It wasn’t his place to question, just protect. Despite that, Ryan’s earlier comments rang in his head, and he couldn’t help wondering if there was maybe a little more truth to it than he’d initially assumed.

“So,” said Jack, settling himself in one of the chairs nearest to the door like he belonged there – which he did, sort of, having met Geoff in this exact apartment often enough he had his claim staked on things. “Are you going to tell us why you’ve called us all here? Because I’m assuming it wasn’t just for the pleasure of our company.”

The lingering frown fell off Geoff’s face. It was an amazing thing to see, Geoff slipping from boss mode into planning mode, the slow curl of his lips upwards into a delighted, amused smirk, the twinkle he got in his eye as if he were a schoolboy planning a prank rather than a man with more murders on his conscience than Michael had had hot meals.

“Well,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little and clapping his hands together. The entire room, intentionally or not, leant forward a little. Geoff’s excitement was infectious. “There’s something I’ve been planning for a while now. Something big. Something I needed the best for – which is why you’re all here.”

He grinned, outright, looked each of them in the eye by turn. “Lads, gents. I have a plan that, if we can pull it off, would make us all rich. Or, well. Richer. I’ve called you all here today to talk to you… about a heist.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something a little different than my normal fare... I told myself I wouldn't get into this fandom, failed that, swore I wouldn't read fic for it, failed that too, swore I wouldn't write fic for it, and well- you can see that's not turned out great either. God, writing six characters is hard (and I keep forgetting why I don't write in past tense, and then remembering every time I make the error of doing so). Would love some concrit as I'm not 100% sure I've got their voices down right yet, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Heist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464424) by [Panda_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panda_Eyes/pseuds/Panda_Eyes)




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